state of unrest
by BlueEyes444
Summary: It's a cold night and he needs sleep. /RegulusPeter


**Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter._**

**For: Cheeky Slytherin Lass  
**

* * *

It's a cold night and he needs sleep.

"I'm so tired," Regulus says and it's true. He's exhausted, almost impossibly so. Months of little, if any, sleep have finally caught up with him.

Peter frowns and there's something in his eyes that can only be described as pity. Regulus wants to laugh. He doesn't need pity. He doesn't deserve it.

"Why don't you sleep for a bit?" Peter suggests finally, an uneasy expression on his face. "I can finish up here." Honestly, Regulus doesn't remember what they're supposed to be doing with all these papers and spells so he finds this the best course of action.

He nods, only because he doesn't have anything else to do and curls up on the floor, covering up with a blanket that smells like dust before squeezing his eyes. There is no doubt he needs sleep but he knows it won't come. It usually only comes when there's alcohol invoked and tonight there is no drink in reach. He mourns.

It is silent for a moment before he hears the rustle of papers. Peter has gotten back to work.

Good, that's good.

"Regulus?" Peter's voice is small, so unsure of his next move and there's an innocent air about him and he wants to laugh. Peter may seem innocent but he's not. His soul is as tainted as they come and there's blood on his hands. But in this business, whose isn't?

"Yeah?" Regulus says, only because he guesses he should and his voice is thick, tongue too big for his mouth.

Several beats of silence and he opens his eyes to find Peter openly staring at him, an expression he can't quite read on his face.

"Are...you okay?" Peter asks finally and Regulus freely admits that he's surprised by the question.

"Why?" he asks and he's generally interested in the reply. Because this concern? It's new.

They're not friends, not really, just the occasional shag buddy, why would he be concerned? It doesn't make sense. But then again, nothing truly makes sense when it comes to Peter, for he's confusing and makes his head and his brown eyes hold a mess of contradictions. There is no mistake that he really should have never gotten involved with him but he's never done what he should.

Peter shifts on his stool, studying his shoe. Shadows play with his face. "I just..." he trails off, chewing on his lower lip, trying to gather his thoughts. "You..." he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You just seem different, I guess. You don't really seem like yourself."

A bitter remark tries to escape Regulus's mouth but he doesn't let it. He doesn't know what to do with this concern, this worry, because it's been so long since anybody's actually cared about him. He closes his eyes, turning away.

"I'm fine, Pettigrew," he says, voice a little sharper than it probably should be. "I'm fine." It's a lie that he's gotten excellent at telling. Years of practice and all.

For several long moments, there's a silence that makes his ears hurt.

"Sorry," Peter says finally and Regulus has known him long enough to hear the carefully hidden hurt in his voice. It makes him feel strange. Is it guilt? He hasn't felt that in so long, he's not entirely sure. But yes, yes, it is guilt, he thinks. Terrible, crushing guilt.

He takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly between clenched teeth. He doesn't know what to say, what to do, doesn't know why he feels guilty, but he does.

He feels the beginning of a headache coming on.

Regulus gives a soft moan, closes his eyes, rolls over and tries to will his mind to shut down. He doesn't need this, not really, not when everything he's worked for is finally coming to a head. He needs to be on top of his game, he mustn't slip up, but it doesn't look like he's going to able to. Peter's always had that way about him, always distracting him and he's not really sure how he feels about it.

He's desperate, he's so tired, he needs sleep, he does, but it's just out of his reach, taunting him and he needs a drink, he thinks. It's the only way he can fall asleep anymore and yes, he needs a drink badly.

Something catches his attention and for a moment, he lays there, listening. There. Soft words, rough, off-key. He blinks open his eyes, the room spinning agonizingly around him for a moment, and tries to focus. Is Peter singing? He glances in his direction and it's not hard for him to place that the noise is coming from him.

He lays there for a moment, listens. He doesn't know the song but it's pleasant in a way. He wonders why Peter is doing this. Then he realizes. Peter's trying to help him get to sleep, even after the way he snapped at him earlier. Regulus feels odd as he realizes this. Why would Peter do that? He doesn't understand. Kindness just doesn't come without a price, without motives of some kind but that's what appears to be happening now. He just doesn't understand Peter, doesn't understand any of this and that worries him a lot.

His thoughts are muddled, confused, and he can't sort it all out now so he pushes all these thoughts and suspicions from his head and he'll worry about them later, he just needs to sleep right now.

"Thanks," he mumbles and his voice is slurring and there is no alcohol this time, just flat out exhaustion.

"For what?" Peter's voice sounds far away, all dim and echoes.

"For caring." The words are thick and he chokes on them.

"That's what friends are for," Peter replies and are they? Are they really friends? Maybe he was wrong, maybe they are, but either way, the word brings a faint smile to his face and it is not long before Regulus slips into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
